It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch 2)

“Did you have fun, Bucket?” Clara scratched the dog’s head. “Don’t worry. We’re not mad at you. Just don’t do that again.” She paused, as if remembering something. “Daddy, did you ever find out if Bucket likes cats?”

“I never found anybody who knew.” Rush added more soap to the thick fur around Bucket’s neck.

“But I did,” Tracy said. “I asked Maggie. She knew the man who gave Bucket to Travis. Bucket was raised with an old cat. He gets along fine with cats.”

“See, Daddy! He does like cats!”

“Maybe so.” Rush knew what Clara was thinking. “But that doesn’t mean Bucket would be gentle with a kitten. He likes to play rough.”

“Oh.” Clara sighed. Rush hated to crush her hopes, but reality was what it was. A tiny kitten wouldn’t be safe on the ranch.

After twenty minutes of soaping and rinsing, Bucket was fit for polite company once more. Rush pulled the drain plug and gave him a final rinse-off with the water from the jug. He was reaching for the stack of old towels when Bucket did what he always did after a bath—he shook his coat, flinging water in all directions.

Rush and Clara knew what to expect. They dodged out of the way. But Tracy was caught off guard. The water hit her straight on, soaking her down the front from her head to her hips.

As the shaking ceased, she knelt by the tub, her face frozen in shock. Water was dripping off her hair and running down her face, pooling in the hollow between her breasts and plastering her shirt to her body.

Recovering slowly, she looked down to assess the damage. Her eyes met Rush’s. He tried to hide his amusement, but lost the battle to the laughter that tugged the corners of his mouth and spilled

over.

Her gaze took on a steely look. Something told Rush he was in trouble.

Her hand still held the plastic cup she’d used to pour water on the dog. The tub was emptying slowly. A few inches of dirty water remained in the bottom.

With a lightning move, she scooped a cupful of water and dumped it over his head. “Now it’s my turn to laugh at you,” she said. “See how it feels.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she spoke. She was beautiful, even like this, Rush thought, with her hair hanging in wet strings around her glowing face, her wet shirt clinging to her body, revealing every sexy, enticing curve.

Somewhere behind him, Clara was enjoying a giggle fit, reminding him that he and Tracy weren’t alone. If they had been, Rush thought, he would have crushed her in his arms, devoured her with his lips, and turned his hands loose to possess all the sweet, forbidden places he’d yearned to touch.

As they gazed at each other, her eyes became dark pools of emotion. Her damp lips parted. The urge to kiss her, here and now, even with Clara watching, was a fever in him. He reached out . . .

That was when Bucket made his move. With no one paying attention to him, he clambered over the edge of the tub, raced out of the bathroom and down the hall, leaving a watery trail behind him.

With a half-mouthed curse, Rush grabbed a handful of towels and plunged after the dog, tackling him as he made it to the kitchen. Bucket wagged and grinned, enjoying the game as Rush toweled him dry. “Blasted hound,” Rush muttered. “If there’s a way to get into trouble, you’ll find it.”

* * *

By the time Travis and Conner ended the ranch business for the night and came inside, Clara was ready for bed, and Tracy was getting ready to leave. She’d given her hair and clothes time to dry, but everything smelled from the dog bath. She was anxious to get home, throw her clothes in the washer, and take a long, hot shower.

She’d spent some time helping Clara read one of the beginner books Rush had brought home from the library. The little girl had come a long way since the day Tracy had helped her write to Santa. By the time she started kindergarten next year, she could be reading well—at least she might be, if her Phoenix family gave her the help and encouragement she needed. Tracy made a mental note to buy some books as a gift for Clara along with the snow globe.

Clara would be going home sometime after Christmas, pending arrangements with her mother and Andre. When Tracy thought about her leaving, and what the separation would mean to both her and Rush, her heart ached for them.

Conner and Travis came in hungry. They pounced on the cinnamon rolls Tracy had brought, taking big bites and washing them down with cold milk. “These are heavenly!” Conner declared, reaching for his third helping. “Rush, if you let this woman get away, you deserve to have your head examined.”

By now, Tracy had learned to ignore Conner’s teasing. But she couldn’t help wondering where things were going with her and Rush. In the weeks she’d known him, it was as if he’d brought her back to life—as if he’d freed her to feel emotions she’d believed to be buried forever.

And yet, how much did she know about this man? How much did he know about her? What hidden secrets were waiting to surface and tear them apart?

She would be wise to guard her heart and be prepared.

“It’s time I was going,” she said, zipping her parka. “Keep the rest of the cinnamon rolls. I’ll get the pan later.”

“Thanks,” Travis said. “Believe me, they won’t last long.”

Clara ran to her for a hug and a good-night kiss. “I’ll walk you out to your car,” Rush said, grabbing his jacket off the coatrack. “You’ll want to hang on to me. It’s slippery out there.”